My love story

I have a great love story.  Really, I do.  You know why?  Cause it’s mine.  So, to me, it’s great.  To other people, they might not think it’s so great. Cause it’s kind of plain jane.  There weren’t any great “I’m breaking up with you.  Wait, no I’m not.  Well, yes I am.  Okay, I’m not.” drama-filled moments.  There hasn’t been any “Let’s move to Costa Rica and have an adventure!” moments either.  To some, it isn’t great because we dated for 11 whole months and were engaged for 9 whole months.  Maybe they think couples should date for a much shorter amount of time.  Others would say longer.

Some would say that it isn’t great because we didn’t get married til our 30s.  Great love stories happen to those in college.  Or just out of college.  Or in high school even.  And yet others would say that truly great love stories happen to the 80-year-old woman who finally marries her high school sweetheart after being seperated for 60+ years. (Okay, I concede, that is a great story!)  But you know what?  I’m pretty fond of my love story.

My sister and I were doing a Bible study (last year!) and one of the questions was along the lines of “List a miracle that you have seen God do in your life.”  My answer: My marriage.  Not in a “It was a really bad marriage, but God helped us turn it around” kind of way or even “I have the best marriage in the world!” kind of way either.  But in a “I think it’s a miracle that I am actually married!” kind of way.

I was talking with a friend the other day who was recounting a date that she recently had been on.  It was a first date and in her mind, the guy did every.single.thing wrong.

• He texted other people during dinner.
• He didn’t talk much to her dad when he came to pick her up.
• He talked on the phone with his mom when he was driving her home.
• He didn’t open her car door.
• The meal wasn’t enough food, but he didn’t address the issue by ordering more.

But she still felt like she should go on a second date with him.  The reason why is the weird part to me.  She wasn’t interested in him, but her reason for going on a second date is that she wants to get married.  To get married, you need to be around marry-able men.  So she felt that she had to continue on with the relationship, not because she was interested or because she was willing to give a second chance, but because no dates = no marriage.

To be fair to the gentleman, she also admitted:

• She didn’t tell him that he was picking her up at her parent’s house.  He knows that she lives with a female roommate and that’s the address he thought he was going to. When her dad answered the door, ir really threw him off.
• She didn’t ask him to open her car door.  She just stood outside her side of the car until he got the hint, got out of the car and then opened her door.

At any rate, it wasn’t a good first date.  I’m guessing neither one of them left thinking “Wow, that went well!”  (To be honest, I do think there’s a time and a place to give a relationship a second chance (or even a long first chance), but I also don’t think you have to go on a second date when you don’t really like the guy and he doesn’t really appear to be that into you either.)

She wished that she could have a simple love story like I did.  What she doesn’t know is that while my love story is pretty simple, it still had awkwardness.  It still had weird moments and uncomfortable conversations.  It’s a relationship – that happens. 

I’ve written far more today than I’ve meant to — I really just meant to say: Relationships have wacky moments.  All of them do.  (Well, assuming you’re closer than near strangers to each other.)  Over the next while (days?  weeks?  months?), I’ll share some of my love story and show you the wackiness.  Simply because knowing what one other couple went through can help you with your story.  Not because your story will look like mine, but because you should know that we’re normal.  I don’t have them all written or anything, so don’t expect them all this week — this will be an “As I get time” kind of thing.

But I’m excited to start this endeavor!

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Book: What Did You Expect?

I just finished a book by Paul David Tripp not too long ago – “What Did You Expect? Redeeming the Realities of Marriage”. An excellent book! It’s a book on marriage (clearly) not full of practical tips, but on the philosophy of marriage and why it can be so difficult. It’s on why what you (when you’re just dating) think marriage will be like isn’t what marriage is really like.

From the book:

It happens to everyone. It is the unavoidable reality of marriage. Somehow, someway, every marriage becomes a struggle. Life after the honeymoon is radically different from the honeymoon that preceded it. The person you loved to play with, you are now living and working with. The person who was your escape from responsibility has become your most significant responsibility. Spending time together is radically different than living together. Reasons for attraction now becomes sources of irritation.

…

Somewhere along the way you realize that you, too, are a sinner, married to a sinner, and you are together living in a broken world. Sometimes this reality just makes mundane little moments more difficult than they should be, and sometimes it means facing devastating things you thought you would never face. But it happens to all.

…

Everyone’s marriage becomes something they didn’t intend it to be. You are required to deal with things you didn’t plan to face. In every marriage sin complicates what would otherwise be simple. In every marriage the brokenness of the world makes things more complicated and difficult. In every marriage either giddy romance wanes and is replaced with a sturdier and more mature love, or the selfishness of sin reduces the marriage to a state of relational detente.

This is kind of where my marriage is. We’re not in the giddy “Oh yay! Jeff is home from work!” stage of life. We’re also not in a facing cancer/unemployment/betrayal stage of life either. (Pray that that stage never comes, but it might.)

But we’re transitioning into that “sturdier and more mature love” that Mr. Tripp writes about.  He writes about how to transition into that kind of love.

How it’s important to prove your trustworthiness daily…

How to deal with differences…

How to protect your marriage.

Most importantly, how to bring grace into your marriage.

It’s a great thing – giddy feelings do fade and that’s okay.  They were fun while they’re there and so new.  You want them to be replaced by stronger, sturdier stuff.

It’s a great book and I’d recommend it for anyone – single or married and no matter how long you’ve been married.

In other news, Happy Valentine’s Day!

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Feeling Alone

(This post was inspired by a Boundless.org blogpost, so if you read that and read my blog, this might seem familiar.)

Several months ago now, I told Jeff that I was feeling alone – even in our marriage.  After talking to him about it and pondering it, I think I figured out why.  It came down to the fact that I made his being silent as something hurtful to me.  I was feeling that he wasn’t really supporting me on some things that I wanted. I was hurt because:

(1) He didn’t help me build the basement shelves that I was building. (That totally fell down the moment I tried to move them, causing me to cry in frustration. They just completely collapsed on top of themselves.  Boom! It’s like I had made them out of a deck of cards or something equally fragile.)

(2) He didn’t help me re-hang the bathroom cabinet doors after I stained them. I told him that I needed help cause I couldn’t get the screws in all the way.

(3) He didn’t help me put together a bookcase that I wanted for our son’s room. I had started it, but (again) couldn’t get the stupid screw into the bookcase.

I was frustrated because I was the one that had figured out the measurements to the shelves.  I was the one who ran to Home Depot 4 times (4!!!) to get lumber, more lumber, plywood, nails to build the basement shelves.  (Can’t I learn to make a list before going there?!?)  I was the one who had to move Phinehas’s carseat from one side of the backseat so that I could put part of the back seat down to get the plywood in the car and then couldn’t put it back correctly.  I was the one who spent a few hours pounding nails into the lumber to make a ‘thing’ that sort of resembled shelves. You know, before I moved it and it collapsed.

I was also frustrated that I was the one that had taken the drawers and the doors off the bathroom fixtures.  I was the one that sanded them down.  I was the one who found the stain locally.  I was the one who taped off the room.  I was the one who did three coats of stain, waited five days and did two coats of polyurethane. I was the one who re-hung the doors.

I was frustrated again when I tried to put together bookshelves for Phinehas’s room.  It was one of those “assemble it yourself” things you can buy from Target.  I was the one who went to Target and bought it, lugging it into the car, lugging it into the house.  I was the one who took the pieces out and organized them onto the living room floor.

I was the one!  (Can you hear how self-focused I was?)

Why couldn’t he help me?  Was it too much to ask?  After I stopped and thought about it, several things hit me:

• None of these projects were my husband’s idea.  Not a single one.  He blessed them, to be sure, but it wasn’t a big dream of his.
• I didn’t ask for help on the basement shelves at all.  In fact,  I was lugging lumber and making Home Depot trips while he was at work and Bible Study.  The man couldn’t help me do what he didn’t know I was doing.
• I didn’t communicate when I needed help.  I just said I needed help in general, without saying “Can you help me with this tonight?  Or this weekend?”  

In one case (the shelves), he didn’t have a chance to help me.  In the other cases, I didn’t ask him when he could help me.  So I got silence (or so I thought).  And instead of taking his silence as a reason to be more specific and direct with him, I took his silence as hurtful and thus, felt alone.

He was willing to help me with the bathroom cabinet doors and the bookcase. He was willing to help me build the basement shelves.  I just had to ask and be clear about it.

If I just would have asked my husband for 1) help and 2) a timeline of when he could help, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt feelings and I wouldn’t have (likely) felt lonely. If only I wouldn’t have assumed his silence meant something…

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Disrespectful good cook

I was listening to a sermon by Dr. Tony Evans on marriage a little while back.  (Available here, it was part of his Winning Back Your Mate series – good stuff!)  The quote that got stuck in my head and gave me plenty of food for thought was:

Many men would rather go out to eat with somebody who is encouraging him than stay at home and eat from a good cook who has no respect for him.

I think it’s true for most people, maybe especially husbands.  Imagine that you had to eat lunch with a certain co-worker everyday.  Someone that you didn’t really like.  Someone who really just got on your nerves.  Someone who knows how to push all the wrong buttons.  It’s just a hardship to spend that lunch hour with them.

Some people live like that.  Their spouses don’t really respect them and know how to push all the wrong buttons, but golly gee, since they’re married, they have to go home to them. They have to eat with them.  They have to be there with them.  They have to endure that.  What kind of life is that?  No fun!

Dr. Evans exhorted wives to be their husband’s chief fan, support system and encourager.  They can get a maid to do the cleaning.  They can get a chef to do the cooking.  They can get a nanny to do the child raising.  But they can’t hire a number one fan.  They can’t hire someone to encourage them.

So I took this quote to heart in two ways:

• As important as the ‘tasks’ of the house are, they are just tasks.  Not people.
• One of the most important things that I do is be a good wife to Jeff.  Not a good wife to Bob.  Not a good wife to Billy.  Not a good wife to Larry.  Not a good wife as defined by “cooking, cleaning and procreating”.  But a good wife as defined by “Cheering him on.  Encouraging him.  Supporting him. Not tearing him down.  Not undermining him.”  No one else but me gets to do that!

Anyway, it was a good reminder of what’s really important.  My relationships are more important than my tasks!

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Shortened Hair

So, I lost the Toilet Paper contest, which means I lost my long hair.  And people, let me tell you, it’s s-h-o-r-t.  Not as short as it could be, but shorter than I pictured.

My sister put my hair back in a ponytail, I agreed to the amount to be cut off and she chopped it off.  The week after, I went to a hairstylist and she cut even more off (in an effort to even it out and style it).  I definitely lost more than the 6 inches I had originally agreed to.  It was my decision though.

I like it.  

I’m still learning how to style it.  (Sometimes I feel like a 13-year-old girl just starting to take an interest in her appearance and playing around with different looks.)

It’s so much easier to work with.  What used to take me 20 minutes now takes 5 minutes.

Phinehas doesn’t pull it.  It’s much easier to keep out of his reach!

But I’m growing it back out.  Slowly, but surely.  Day by day.  Why?  My husband doesn’t care for it.  And his preferences is more important than a little convenience for me.

I knew going into this whole process that Jeff prefers me with long hair.  I’ve even written about it.  I also had his blessing to do the competition and to lose my long hair.  We’re both totally fine with the decision.  Here’s the reality: you can be fine with the decision and still not like the result.  You can be convinced that you did the right thing.  You can be sure that you did a good thing.  But you can still not like the effects.

And that’s where we’re at.  My growing my hair back out isn’t a “submission” thing – it’s a “wanting to please my husband when I can” thing.  It’s a “he doesn’t grow a beard because he knows my preferences, so I can be considerate of him too” thing.  That’s a big part of marriage – pleasing your spouse when it’s possible to do so.

Maybe by this time next year, my locks will be lots longer!

Why is it just so adorable when you put ears on kid’s hats?

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Keeping Marriage Primary

I theoretically love John Rosemond’s parenting philosophies. I say theoretically because I have a 6-month-old. Meaning that I’ve never had to put many of them into practice. I do think my mom thinks a lot like he does, so while I’ve never parented a child that way, I think I’ve been parented with a philosophy similar to his.

Recently, I’ve checked out one of his books (The New Parent Power) and he starts off pretty early in the book with the foundational concept that the marriage should be the primary and most important relationship in the family, not the one between parents and children. The quote:

Somewhere, back down the line, they misplaced the fact that the marriage is the most important commitment in their lives. Until they rediscover it, they will continue to become increasingly isolated in roles that do not complement one another and increasingly distant in terms of communication and intimacy.

…

In the last fifty years or so, we’ve done such a good job of training wives to be mothers and husbands to be breadwinners that by the time their children leave home, they’ve forgotten how to be partners.

By no means am I ignoring realities. Children must be attended to and money must be made. I’m simply saying that wives can and should remain wives first and foremost, even after they become mothers. Likewise, husbands can and should remain husbands first and foremost, regardless of the demands of their careers. Mother, father, breadwinner – these are all secondary roles. Husband and wife are the primary adult roles in the family. If all this is somewhat difficult to accept, it’s only because the cultural program to which I referred earlier is so demanding and insistent, so powerful and persuasive, that we succumb to it without thinking through the consequences.  (emphasis mine)

I think it is really easy for the role of mom to trump the role of wife. I can see how the role of breadwinner can trump the role of husband. Our culture does gear us that way. There is money that is needed. And kids do need time and attention and training. There are other things too. Houses, laundry, food, church, sports, all kinds of things. I just like the way that he puts it – we don’t need to succumb to the cultural program if we give it some thought.

No magic answers, just something to chew on.

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Not just a mother

I was reminded on Sunday that I am not just a mother.  Let me explain.

On Sunday, Jeff and I joined his family-of-origin on a little one day roadtrip to Kansas City to see the Chiefs lose badly play.  It is somewhat of a yearly tradition.  Since Phinehas is only 5 months old and 1) wouldn’t enjoy the trip, 2) wouldn’t do well on the trip and 3) would probably make us not enjoy the trip, he stayed home.  With babysitters of course.

I was super worried about it going into the day.  Of course, I had great babysitters lined up, but still…this was a whole day! (5:30 am to 8:00 p.m.)  And for the first time, he was with a non-family member babysitter for a portion of the day.

I had a blast!  The game was just okay.  And I didn’t make great food choices (the food just wasn’t as yummy as I had remembered).  And I was really tired by the end of the day.  But you know what? I was reminded that I’m not just a mom.

I am a wife!  I had a whole day of just being with Jeff without having to worry why Finn might be fussy or if I had time to run an errand before his next nap.  I didn’t have to carry him (or see that someone else was).  I didn’t smell of formula at all.  The whole day.  And while I (usually) love doing those things and consider it a privilege that I get to, I love, love, love being Jeff’s wife more.  Sunday was a glimpse of that.  It wasn’t just that I had a day off from baby duty, that wasn’t it.  It was that I had a day where it was mostly just Jeff and I.

Being a mom to someone so young is intense!  It surely is a unique season in life where caretaking is practically constant.  It’ll get better as he gets older…I’m sure each phase of mothering is different.  (I don’t want to make it sound like I’m complaining about being a mother.  I’m not – I adore it!  I’m having a blast doing it!  But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t intense.)

I’m not just a mom.  I am not even primarily a mom.  My role as wife trumps my role as mom.  I love both of those roles, but it was a sweet blessing to have one full day to have fun with my hubby.

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Dating and marriage

Our dating life has really changed since my husband and I started dating.

…First step…

Started dating, my husband had to be really intentional:

Him: “Will you go on a date with me?”

Me: “Yes, I’d love to.”

What happens: Plans get discussed.  He picks me up.  He pays.  We go out.  He brings me home.

…fast forward a couple of months…

Him: “What should we do this Friday?”

Me: “Well, there’s that swing dance.  Or that new movie.  Or we could stay in and cook for your roommates.”

What happens: Plans get discussed.  He picks me up.  He pays.  We do whatever we planned on.  He brings me home.

…fast forward to marriage…

Him: “Man, I’m so glad to be home. Work was tough.  I’m so glad we can just stay in and R-E-L-A-X.  I love coming home to you.”

Me: “That’s great — I’ll start chopping the lettuce for the salad and pop the lasagna in the oven.”

…fast forward to 2 months post-marriage…

Me: “Hey, we don’t really ‘go out’ anymore.  I mean, we do…cause we eat lunch out after church.  And we meet up with friends on Saturday evenings for games.  But we don’t go out, out.”

Him: “We can go out if you want.”

Me: “I want.”

Him: “Okay.  What do you want to do?”

What happens: Plans get discussed.  He doesn’t pick me up – he already lives there.  He pays with our joint checking account.  He brings me home – cause he lives there too.

…fast forward to babies…

Me: “This is getting really hard to go out of the house sometimes.”

Him: “Yeah, it seems like we have really bad timing…as soon as we get out, he wants to eat.  Or gets fussy cause he’s ready for bed again.”

Me: “I’ll start chopping the lettuce for the salad and pop the lasagna in the oven.”

Him: “Sounds good.  When he’s in bed, wanna watch Netflix?”

Me: “You bet!”

…fast forward to older kids…

(I’m guessing.)

Me: “Let’s go out on a date date.”

Him: “Okay.  We’ve been wanting to try X restraunt.  Wanna do that?”

Me: “Sure, I’ll get a babysitter.”

Him: “Great.”

Me: “Uh oh…no one seems really eager to babysit our 6 kids and to hire 2 babysitters is gonna be $20/hour…we’re looking at $100 just to go out.  Want it that bad?”

Him: “Nope.  When the kids are in bed, wanna watch Netflix?”

Me: “You bet!  I’ll put M&Ms in the popcorn.”

Dating changes over time.  I don’t ever see where it will look the same as it did pre-marriage.  I’m not moving out, so he can’t ‘come pick me up’.  We’re not seperating finances, so his money will always be our money.

I wouldn’t say that we’ve developed the mentality that says “I’ve won him/her, so I don’t have to try anymore.”  I just think that life gets complicated.  But we can be intentional about spending time together and having fun together.  We went on an honest-to-goodness “drop the baby off at my sister’s and go to dinner” date for our anniversary a couple of months ago and it was nice.  It was fun going back to a restraunt that we have fond memories of.  But even that night looked way different than it did when we started dating.  Now it’s all about a restraunt that we wouldn’t take a baby to.  And it’s about making sure we don’t burden my sister and her family.  And it’s about figuring out the impact it will have on our son to not be in bed at his normal time.

I’ve found that I, even as a woman, don’t need a date date as much as I thought.  What I need: intentional time together to grow our relationship, learn about him and what he’s thinking and dealing with, and time to have new experiences together.  It doesn’t have to be a ‘date’ for that to happen.  Dates are still fun and great, but not mandatory.

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Turning 33: OPO

One of the things that I realized in this last year (my 32nd year) is the role that OPO have in my life.  Don’t know what OPO is? Probably cause I think I might have made it up.  OPO is Other People’s Opinions.  (Yeah, you know me….know that reference?  Probably not.)

Here’s what I’ve learned about me and OPO.  I care too much about them.  Well, certain people, anyway. I don’t really know what opinion the mail carrier has, nor do I really put much stock into it.  But other people?  I care very much.  Too much.

OPO is kind of good

There’s an element of that that’s good. Like when you’re 6 years old and you decide not to steal Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum cause you don’t want your parents to be disappointed.  Or when you’re 15 and tempted to tease your bangs 4 inches high and wear baggy overalls, but then you don’t because others would think you’re silly.

But you’re supposed to grow out of that – the super strong need for affirmation.  Aren’t you?  Some desire for affirmation is part of the human experience (it is a Love Language after all), but we shouldn’t have a need so strong that it is a factor in almost every decision that we make.

I caught myself in that boat this past year – realizing that I had an unhealthy need for the approval of others.  On all kinds of topics – pregnancy, mothering, marriage, work, finances.  And from all kinds of people – not of everyone of course.  It was weird who I wanted it from.  Some family, but not all family.  Some co-workers, but not all. Some facebook friends, but not all.  Even some people who I don’t know, but are authors of blogs that I read!  Strange.

How I recognized it

I recognized it in 2 ways.  Way #1: I was preoccupied by it. I’d be going throughout my day thinking “I wonder what Sally Sue would think of my decision to have carrots with dinner?” or “I wonder what Facebook Friend Frannie would do in this situation?” or “If Blogging Betty knew the decision that I just made, would she be friends with me?”  Strange.

Way #2: I didn’t get their affirmation. For a variety of reasons, but I didn’t get it.  Sometimes people said that they didn’t like the decision.  Sometimes people didn’t say anything and their silence said what their words didn’t.  And it was C-R-U-S-H-I-N-G to me.  Like cry for a long time C-R-U-S-H-I-N-G.  Almost unable to make a decision C-R-U-S-H-I-N-G.

How I recovered

What’s the best thing to do when you’re in that situation?  No idea.  I’m not yet where I should be in regards to OPO.  What I did/am doing:

• Take a step back and intentionally live without the affirmation.
• Let the hurt be there.  Let God know that it’s there.  Ask Him to heal it.
• Figure out why their opinion matters so much.  Remind myself that, in many cases, I don’t have a relationship with them.
• Re-think the decision to determine if they aren’t right, after all.  I mean, if their opinion matters to you, it MIGHT be for a good reason, so maybe they have a point?  Maybe not, but maybe.
• Unsubscribe from some blogs.  With the quantity and quality of blogs out there, it’s easy to feel like you know the author – when you really don’t.  And if they have such a hold on me, just unsubscribe.
• Admit that I’m just not mature enough to have so many opinions floating in my head.  In this case, more knowledge doesn’t equal better.
• Keep silent.  If I don’t share as many opinions and decisions, then I can’t be criticized for them.  If it isn’t something that I need their opinion on, mum’s the word.

Good lessons to be learned, I’m sure. Ideally, I wouldn’t care so much about OPO, but I’m not there yet.  I’m not alone in that, am I?

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The great divide

There exists a great divide, I once thought, is between marrieds and singles.

When single, I often vacillated between thinking that there was hardly any difference at all between single women and married women and thinking that there was a world of difference between the two groups.  Sometimes, I couldn’t even begin to relate to married women.  Other times, I saw their lives being so much like mind – they just had a husband and probably children and I didn’t.

Then I got married.  And then I believed that there was a HUGE difference between singleness and marriedness.  I believed that for a while.  And it’s true – the things that I was worried about and the way I structured my day were different from when I was single. When I was single, I didn’t meal plan.  I didn’t check my schedule against another’s all that often.  I spent my money as I wished.  I didn’t have a cleaning plan.  I didn’t even have a bedtime!  I got married and that changed.  I planned meals.  I developed a cleaning schedule.  My schedule was always checked against Jeff’s schedule and desires.  I had a set bedtime.  It seemed SOOO different.

Then I had a baby.  And a weird thing happened – instead of thinking of how even more different my life is now compared to when I was single, my life is starting to seem more the same.  Granted, my day-to-day life is radically different from when I was single – even more different from when I was just married, but no kids.  But I don’t see those outward things like activities as much as I used to.  I see the internal things more.

• When I was single, I desired to be married.  I never knew if or when I would.  Now? I desire more kids, but I don’t know if or when I will.
• When I was single, I wished I had more money to spend.  Now? I still wish I had more money to spend. 
• When I was single, I wanted to be friends with the cool kids.  Now? I still want to be friends with them.
• When I was single, I had moments of such loneliness.  Now? I still have moments like that at times.  Being married to someone doesn’t automatically make you not lonely.
• When I was single, I wanted everyone to think that I had it all together. Now?  I still want that.
• When I was single, I had moments where I felt forgotten by God.  Now?  I have moments where I feel forgotten by God.

Kids. Money.  Friends. Loneliness. I still have those same concerns, feelings and desires – but the nuances surrounding them is just slightly different.  If I had more money, I’d probably spend it differently than I would have when I was single.  My loneliness looks slightly different.  I still want to impress people – I now have marriage and parenting to add to the arenas in which I want to impress them.

Single Jayme and Married Jayme aren’t so different.

 

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